Words on Bathroom Walls

I often struggle with my thoughts regarding "trauma movies." To be specific, I mean films that deal with emotional trauma, mental illness, and similar real-life psychological struggles as a central element of their story. I like to think that's because I'm a generally neurotypical person with enough awareness to see how my ignorant normative perspective might be an obstacle for me from understanding how authentic or "valuable" these films are to people who really do deal (or have dealt) with trauma and illness. Simply because I think a movie about someone with severe depression is incredibly moving, educational, and "culturally significant," on account of its authentic or emotionally effective depiction of the condition, that doesn't mean someone suffering from depression would agree with me, or that they would gain anything from watching it at all.

It's clear that most of these movies are made by or, at the very least, are designed for neurotypical people like me who might not understand what it's like to exist with mental/emotional disorders or trauma. There is a value in them, for neurotypical people, as educators and as vehicles for empathy, provided that they give accurate representations of the subject. I suppose, then, that the mileage of a movie like Words on Bathroom Walls would depend largely on that authenticity, as a way to help the ignorant understand and empathize with people who actually struggle with trauma and illness.

If that is the case, and also the greatest purpose this kind of film can hope to achieve, then perhaps it should come with warnings about the content—that it could upset those who are already dealing with it in real life. I cannot imagine a person with schizophrenia would have gained much by watching Words on Bathroom Walls, and I'm relatively certain, after talking with loved ones who do struggle with various kinds of mental illness, that it could have been seriously detrimental to such a person's mental/emotional state.

That was the rambling of a very privileged and unburdened person, but it was my biggest takeaway from this film: if your movie is specifically about shedding light on and/or garnering empathy about mental illness and trauma, then it sure as shit better get its representations right, and its primary concern should be love and care for people truly afflicted by the subject at hand. And a simple content warning would be great too, while you're at it.

So does Words on Bathroom Walls achieve all this? Is it an accurate representation of schizophrenia and the social struggles of many with mental illnesses? I guess I can't properly speak to that, not without some seriously strong understanding of the topic, which I, unfortunately, don't have. But I can do some cursory research of my own—reading about and talking to people to gain outside perspectives on the issue—and then give you my neurotypical perspective on the film, and the heap of salt that goes along with it.

Words on Bathroom Walls is, largely a typical young-adult relationship and coming-of-age drama that deals also with schizophrenia as a core element of its main character's personal journey. Adam (Charlie Plummer) was a relatively "ordinary" teenager when he began hearing voices and experiencing hallucinations. After one such hallucination caused him to injure another student in chemistry class, Adam was taken to a hospital and diagnosed with schizophrenia. His single mother, Beth (Molly Parker) did her best to take care of him, and it was decided, after a lot of bullying at school, that he enroll at St. Agatha's Catholic school. Meanwhile, she has a new boyfriend, Paul (Walton Goggins), who doesn't appear to have Adam's best interests in mind.

Now, Adam has to find himself, succeed at school, and continue to be a teenager, all while contending with visions and voices, often in the form of 3 imagined personalities who periodically hop in to drop their two cents into his life. There's Rebecca (Annasophia Robb), a wholesome and free-thinking hippie who seems to want the best for Adam, but can come off as a bit of a helicopter parent; there's Joaquin (Devon Bostick), a barechested horndog most interested in satisfying Adam's basic and immediate desires, for better or worse; and there's The Bodyguard (Lobo Sebastian), a muscled, bearded tough-guy in a tracksuit, who is undyingly loyal and protective of Adam, but also trigger-happy on defense.

Adam quickly meets Maya (Taylor Russell), St. Agatha's projected valedictorian, who is sharp but maybe a bit socially awkward in her own way. The two strike a deal to have Maya tutor Adam and take him under her wing as he makes his way in the new school environment. Adam's physical and emotional attraction to her is clear, but his 3 wisepeople make sure he doesn't let her get too close.

What ensues is a relatively typical teen drama about opening up and letting in the people who love you. It's about trust and honesty, both intra- and interpersonal. Schizophrenia is the obstacle through which Adam must learn this lesson.

I noted earlier that I will not be a fully accurate judge of the film's portrayal of his schizophrenic symptoms. Words' handling of Adam's affliction felt relatively believable to me (in my understanding of the condition), even if somewhat overplayed and dramatized. But for the sake of creating a digestible and intelligible rendition of a psychological disorder for the screen, it seemed pretty effective. Simultaneously, the characters' various chemistries are charming, and it's hard not to root for Adam and his loved ones. There is no shortage of likability here.

What felt phonier to me, and all the more disappointing, was the third-act plotting and revelations—the attempt to tie up things neatly with a bow, to suggest that ***mild spoilers*** Adam figured out who he can and cannot trust in life, how he can coexist with his condition, and how he can unapologetically be himself for eternity now that he has let the right people into his life.

I tend to take idealism as an alternative to cynicism as a general rule for this sort of thing, so I appreciate the positive message. I have also not read Julia Walton's eponymous book on which Bathroom Walls is based, so I don't know how if this is an issue with the story at its core or the film's execution of it. But sometimes a happy ending can feel like a shortcut, or an unwillingness to acknowledge the difficulty of achieving the epiphany that would allow for such an ending. Adam's story is fictional—or at least fictionalized—and he is allowed to have a happy ending and generally resolve the hardest parts of his journey by age 18. But most don't even develop symptoms until their 20s, and often struggle for years, if not their entire lives, to deal with or "come to terms with" their condition. And perhaps a "happy ending" would have felt more earned if it was more set up by the mechanics of the first two acts, and also more outwardly cognizant of the reality Adam very well could face in his future.

Overall, Words on Bathroom Walls is a fairly heartwarming movie, and it's clear that it was made with love for people with mental and emotional disorders. Its effectiveness and authenticity waver, more as a result of formulaic writing than of phony or cynical representations of schizophrenia. For someone like me with only a cursory understanding of the issue, or perhaps even less, maybe Bathroom Walls will help you understand and appreciate other people's struggles more; it also helps that it's generally entertaining and cute. That being said, if you took away schizophrenia as a device in the film, it's an incredibly by-the-numbers teen drama, and that might be cause for concern regarding the importance of schizophrenia to the film.

It's something to think about anyway, and maybe something to talk about with people who have more experience and understanding on the matter.